On the Trendy Ghettoization of Female Dominance

July 30th, 2014

There is a particular pattern of communication I’ve grown accustomed to over the years while entertaining the letters sent to Me from men, and it happens much like clockwork: the seasons change and suddenly there are several new messages in My inbox inquiring about My availability for BDSM sessions. These questions, as familiar as they are, never cease to perplex Me. I have been writing for years how I do not offer sessions and how I do not charge an hourly rate, or see the exchange of dominance and submission between a Woman and a man as transactional, but no matter how well I write these sigils across My site to ward off the “pro mojo,” its acolytes show up, nonetheless, with hats in hands. I turn them away as nicely as I can, of course, but the magnitude at which men believe they can purchase time in My presence never fails to niggle at the back of My head a little. On one hand, I am flattered, I suppose, that some men would part with gobs of money just to be near Me. On the other hand, that is not where the deal ends as far as many men are concerned, unfortunately. Men who are willing to throw their money at a Woman to role play dominance come seeking a service, and in that vein, I am awestruck by their sense of entitlement, if not incomprehension.
To be clear, the service they seek is not My particular gripe. The practice of men paying to be flogged, feminized, humiliated, etc., is as old as the hills. The Dominatrix profession itself started from within brothels catering to the eccentric needs of men before it branched out into being a “thing” in and of itself in the contemporary age. Dominatrices today operate in a shadow world between sexual iconoclasm and fantasy-fulfillment—a perpetual gray area frequented by the prurient interests of fetishists, masochists, and sex tourists. This in and of itself is quite fine: I fully support Women choosing any path they wish. The path of the Dominatrix is certainly one worthy of respect. It fulfills a need in men to temporarily submit and it can even be thought of as a “gateway drug,” in that it encourages men to get their feet wet with submitting to Women whereafter they may choose to explore the world of the Alpha Female with more depth if they dare.  My gripe, as it turns out, is the association such men make between Me and the Pro Domina. While I certainly take no issue with Women who choose to pursue the arts of the Dominatrix, the schism between a Woman like Myself and the average Pro is, really, like night and day. No, I do not have a dungeon or a domestic-themed studio. No, I do not cater to your fetishes. No, I do not offer a service for payment. And no, I do not associate My dominance with fashion statements in leather or latex, the trend of which started with the “bizarre sex” underground in the sixties. You can certainly give Me your money if you’d like, but in My world, it is understood as a proxy for your devotion and desire to please, not a transactional fee paid for services rendered. In other words, having money offered up to Me is a frivolous matter compared to having one’s soul offered up to Me. It is the latter I find interest in, for in that all bounties of a man flows perpetually, not just the paper bills in his wallet for a finite moment.
So with the above in mind, I openly suggest to the world that is that there are, in fact, two types of Women who wield whips in this world. First, there are the Dominatrices, who are essentially sensation-service providers to the whims and desires of their adoring male clientele. It may appear as dominant on the surface, but careful observation often reveals otherwise. Careful observation, in fact, underscores the difference between the Dominatrix and the Mistress (“Mistress” as in “Keeper” of the House). The Dominatrix archetype is often seen as having overturned social convention in the realm in which they operate, of reversing the long-established roles between Women and men in making men obedient to Female authority. Authors, activists and enthusiasts of Femdom expound with much poetry and erudition on the exuberance of the dominant Female, and yet, for all this homage paid to Female dominance, there appears to be very little of it in authentic practice within the industry that is “Femdom.” What we have instead, unfortunately, is a commercial empire wherein a bit of a charade is being played out between fetishists and sex capitalists that rise to the occasion of the natural, sensual need in men. Dominant Women pursuing a  little capitalism, especially at the expense of male interest, is not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. What I call to light is the rampant service to male sexual fantasy simply to turn a dime that has become the Femdom modus operandi du jour, with little left over for love of the wholesome reality-based craft of Female dominance in and of itself. Beneath the shiny skin of latex and leather and beyond the garish spectacle of role play, one is eventually compelled to ask what heart truly beats for the Feminine Divine in all this consumable imagery? The reality is that for many, form is more cherished than essence and aesthetic more celebrated than authenticity in the practice of wielding “control” over men. The sensual thrill seeker client merely purchases Female sensuality and escapes, temporarily, into an ephemeral illusion of Her dominance—an illusion the Dominatrix gets paid to weave. But what if that dominance goes beyond the trappings of mere Femdom? What if the dominance of a Woman is integrated into real life, beyond the service-oriented performance art?
That is where Women like Myself come in. We do not measure out our time with men by the hour or offer our craft simply as a product in and of itself. While we are certainly inclined to profit from our power in one form or another, who and what we are, as a whole, is not determined by serving the sexuality of men, as we see with the typical Dominatrix. The Mistress makes male sexuality serve Her, and therein lies a crucial and fundamental difference. Where the Dominatrix is contained in a box made of rules dictated by the underworld of the sex-fantasy industry, the Mistress is free to be who She is: there need not be any divide between who She really is and who She appears to be. She incorporates Her dominance seamlessly into the world of the real—not just the world of the pruriently bizarre—and therein lies the true power of a Woman to emerge from the abstract subcultural “ghetto” that fetish culture has carved out for Her. Her dominance is not justified and consumed merely as a pseudo-sexual service. Her dominance is all-encompassing and there is no border where we separate its extent from the larger reality of the world around us. The Mistress, in other words, is real. While She uses sexual energy to Her favor, She refuses to be isolated or segregated into a subculture built only around sexual antics and services that cater to men. The Woman next door might very well be a keeper of slaves. You may never be able to tell, judging by Her lifestyle and outward appearance, for Her status as a slave keeper is but one aspect of Her life and reality—it is not scrawled across Her in the garish colors of the fashionably eccentric and perverse.
saharahs_graceWhile I flesh out the breadth and scope of My own life, it is important for Me to note that I am not an enemy of fantasy or even male sexuality. I am far from it, in fact.  No one understands and respects the power of human sexuality more than a Keeper of consensual slaves, I hold. My note is at the purity of the vision that compels a man to serve and what inspires a Woman to receive that service with honest intent. There is plenty of great sex and fantasy fulfillment to be had in that world, but what makes it different is its goals and the center from which it operates. There are many permutations, but only one that resonates with Me and those fit for the world in which I live. In that world Woman are supreme and men serve Women to lift them up and free them from the drudgery of the menial. The servitude is real, not merely an act for a temporary sensual hiatus. So long as the fantasy in a man’s mind finds pleasure in this, he is not relegating the Woman of his dreams into virtual sex slavery to his fetishes.
Where narratives afforded by fantasy are concerned, I think another great way to demonstrate the difference is through the visual. Female power and dominance is depicted in a variety of artwork from many artists, but only a few tend to get it right in My book. My slave’s artwork exudes this understanding in paintings in that his message is uncluttered from the confusion Femdom tends to inflict upon popular consumption. Unlike many Femdom artists, Nanshakh’s work exemplifies a purity of understanding where it relates to a Mistress and Her slaves. The men are anonymized and interchangeable. The Women stride, sit, or recline imperiously over them in their beauty and dominance. Their sexuality is certainly used, but not to make men the focus of their dominance. In this world, the Women are at the center and the men are banished into the periphery—their lives only having meaning in abject servitude to and worship of Females who are rightfully enthroned in a celestial mantle above the male creature. In Nanshakh’s work, men are clearly not being “done.” They are being taken for granted. They are debased and undifferentiated. They are meaningless machine parts without the central mechanisms of life: Women. That is the message I like to extoll and it is the personal reality I live which frees Me and puts Me high above the din of the fetish industry and its male-oriented world of commonly consumed Femdom.

The Nuisances of Populated Streets and Leash Walking

July 11th, 2014

I have never made it a secret that I find pleasure in publicly walking a slave on a leash.  Instances of Myself doing so abound in this site —  both in photos and movies.  I know I am not alone as many more wonderful Mistresses are starting to showcase their pets in this manner.  🙂  For Me personally it is one of those little things of daily life to which I am very attached.  First and foremost because I derive tremendous satisfaction from it, of course.  I always enjoy showing a man his true place — at My heel, abased and docile, as the domestic animal he is destined to be.  Station reminders are an integral part of the strict discipline I impose upon My slaves.  Secondly, I enjoy doing it in public because it engenders an increased educational value  both for the slave and the public too.  No doubt many people will be impressed by the natural elegance of an attractive Woman who casually holds a male on a leash throughout the city sidewalks and markets.  Many men, and even more importantly Women, will be seduced by the important statement it makes.  I can not help smiling when I think of all the sleepless nights I must have inflicted in this way.  Lastly, let us not forget it is very salutary for the slave’s mental hygiene and You all know how, as a responsible Keeper, I make it a point to keep My slaves perfectly healthy in this regard.  No doubt I have often expended here on the benefits for the slave to be paraded in public at the end of a leash  or even trotting on all fours beside His Keeper.
When kept on leash a slave of Mine finds his natural place and embraces the sanctity of his servile condition.  He is proud of being exposed by Me for what he truly is: a piece of property, a domesticated creature irreversibly attached to Me — pun intended.  And he certainly does not feel any shame or humiliation as his attention is entirely centered upon Me and he is only concerned with how he is besotted by My authority and instead of feeling awkward because of the gawks and bewildered looks he feels ennobled by being leashed to Me, belonging to My retinue and by participating to My stature, however menially.  The leash has deprived him of any reason -or right- for self consciousness; he knows instinctively he does not exist as a person anymore and that all eyes are upon Me.  No one pays any attention to a slave— people only see the leash and then the elegant, manicured hand that is firmly holding it.  He is mindful of doing honor to his Mistress, of having the perfect behavior She expects of him.  He is proud of having the same importance to My standing as My purse or My shoes and knows that I will expect his conduct to be at all times as spotless as any part of My attire.
It amuses Me when I hear some people  from within the Femdom crowd talk about the “public humiliation” of being taken on a leash by a Woman.  How could it possibly be humiliating for a slave to be displayed by his Owner for what he truly is: Her property.  Of course he is proud that She deigns to parade him as such.  He is thrilled She chose to take him out with Her like Her purse or Her scarf.  Some take an umbrella in case it might rain, exactly the same way as I might take a slave if I am going for a walk and I think I might have some use for him, e.g., to sit on him in the park, to get a foot massage, or carry My bags if I indulge in some impromptu shopping.  Can you imagine the joy of any of My slaves when I am so generous as to choose to take them out for such purposes?  They are even more excited than My dog —  I mean the real, canine one 😉  Were it not for their perfect training  I could find My slaves waiting sitting by the front door, the leash in their mouths.  So I wonder why so many people come up with that sentiment about humiliation.  It is a grace I bestow on a slave when I take him out on a leash.
Unfortunately, things have deteriorated in recent years thus the satisfaction I can derive from leash walking a slave in public has considerably waned.  To the point where I seriously wonder if I will keep indulging in that innocent habit of Mine much longer.  No sooner do I appear tugging a slave along that tons began to follow, tripping over themselves I might add.  It has come to the point where it takes away some pleasure and I am not sure I will keep doing that much longer.  Of course I could avoid this nuisance by sticking to deserted streets, but then unpopulated streets do defeat the purpose of the exercise, don’t they?  When I leash walk a slave I am taking My Female Supremacist lifestyle to the public square and I am making an important statement.  Yes, some Women keep their males on a leash.  Some Women rule and there is no shortage of males they can choose from to domesticate.  This is My world and I certainly am not apologetic for it; I make it a point of exercising My right to flaunt it when and where it pleases Me just the same as others are showing off their own lifestyles and choices.  This is the place I have for males in My life — at the end of My leash, at My beck and call.  My subservient males are part of My standing.  I do not see why I could not conveniently take one out on a leash in the same way a gay couple can walk hand in hand or other people choose to display their religious bonds with ostentatious costumes.  It is all about bonding after all, right? 😉